ill li 







THE MISSIVE 

MAUD MAY PARKER 




Class _P^ •:S^i\ 
Book _. A MA /A 5 

coHYRicirr nEPosrr. 



THE MISSIVE 



A DRAMATIC POEM 



MAUD MAY PARKER 




BOSTON 
The Poet Lore Company 
Publishers 
1907 



Copynght IQ07 by Maud Mny Parker 
AU Ai^kts Rescn<ed 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Iwo Oonics Received 

APP 29 1907 

/.CooynrM Entry 
cuss /\ XXc, No/ 

COPY D. ' ' . 

■» I I 



no! 



J /if Gorliam Prfss, Boston 



TO 
Mr HUSBAND 



DRAMATIS PERSONAE 

Thcophilus \ Rich Merchant 

Antigone His Wife 

Lysandcr Friend to Theophilus 

Thyrsis \ Slave 

1st Watchman 
2d Watchman 
1st Philosopher 
2d Philosopher 
A By-stander 

Chorus of citizens returning from the games: 

Priests, Dancers, Weavers of the Peplos, 
Charioteers, etc. 



PART I 

MORNING : Athens, A. D. 75. 

Period of the Pan Athenaeic Festival. 

Scene i. {A large hall, at the centre of the end of 
which is the sacred fire burning to Hestta. At 
the other end are marble seats, over which skins 
are thrown. The floor is of mosaic; and resting 
upon a leopard skin, in the centre, is a bier upon 
which lies the body of Cleanthes, the only son of 
Theophilus and Antigone. 

Kneeling by the bier, luith one arm thrown 
across the dead child, convulsed with sobs, is 
Antigone. 

Nearby on a carven couch, Theophilus sits 
wearily. Standing near the entrance of the 
hall, which is hung with rich stuffs from 
Syria, is Thyrsts, the slave boy. This hall 
opens into a sunny court-yard which is sur- 
rounded by a marble colonnade. In the ceritre 
of this court-yard is a fountain playing; and 
at the entrance is seen a statue of Apollo. 

This entrance leads into a narrow vestibule, 
at the end of which a door stands open into the 
street. Through this is seen a great procession 
winding its ^vay towards the Acropolis. Horse- 
men and dancers; young girls ivith garlands 
of roses; men bearing torches; gymnasts and 
charioteers, on their way to the Pan Athenaeic 
Festival. 

The Procession of the Peplos.) 



Theophilus 

How heavy hanj^s the morn! Dost stand there lad 
Still gazing through the door that let death in ? 
Come, draw the curtains Thyrsis. There — didst 

see 
The Cavalcade in glorious beauty 'neath 
The mid-day sun, as towards th' Acropolis 
It wound its joyous way ? Sweet rose-crowned 

girls 
And bearded athletes; lads with eager steps, 
All singing life's sweet song — as if there were 
No death. No death, great Zeus! when he, our 

boy. 
Our own Cleanthes lies upon yon bier; 
Wearing his grave-clothes with a smile. — that smile 
That he was always wont to wear in life! 
Go, leave us Thyrsis — join the motley throng; 
Sins thou thine anthem to the great Athene! 



Thyrsis 

My master, I will join it not! — These gods 

Of Greece are naught to me, since Luke told of 

A gentle God, his Hebrew mother once 

Had seen — Who walked with men : who healed the 

sick 
And raised the dead! — What cares the mighty Zeus 
For sick or dead, while in the fair white arms 
Of Hera, lies he sleeping all the while; 
Or, what the proud Athene in her robe 
Wove by the maids on the Acropolis! 



6 



Antigone 

(Raising herself from the bier.) 

Raised the dead, Thyrsis ? Raised the dead thou 
say'st ? 

Theophilus 

Go, Thyrsis — we will speak of this anon. 

(Exit Thyrsis.) 

(To Antigone.) 

Come, my Antigone; cease thy long sobs; 

Lay thy dear head upon my breast, my wife, 

As thou wast wont to do in the old days ' 

When thou and I were all in all; we two 

Who never thought a third would come with hands 

To hold our hearts within their tender clasp; 

Only to leave a void larger than death. 

Dost mind thee of that day he lisped a word, 

— The tender word of — " Mother " — and content 

He clasped his arms around thy neck, sinking 

His head within the soft curve of thy chin; 

And thou, supreme in thy young Motherhood 

Didst call: 

" Theophilus, already he 
Has learned the trick of nestling close to me 
As I to thee! I wonder if he knows 
The heart-beats throbbing 'gainst his own, as I 
Do thine ^ 



— Come, lay thy head here now, — where thou 
Canst feel my pulses beating while I speak; 
l"or I have that to say which thou must hear!" 



Antigone 

(Rising and seating herself by him.) 

Say on, Theophiius, v.liat matters now! 

1 hy heart-beats only hammer out the sound 

— Cleanthes is dead! Is robbed of life's fiow'r 

Before its rosy petals bloomed. How dark 

For him the grave, who never knew the light; 

Who never tasted of life's sweets: for him 

No fair-haired wife to fold him in her arms; 

No prattling babe to climb upon his knee: 

But Hades! — with its portals gaping wide, 

\\ licre cold and pallid forms will take his hand 

And bid him enter to its dark abode; 

And shades, who've known the joy of life, will tell 

Him of its radiant hues, and make the air 

In which he breathes, more dense and ebon still! 

Tiieophilus, if Lucas had been here 

He had not died! Wot you how once before 

Our tender babe was in the vale of death, 

And Lucas cured him with those drops procured 

In Alexandria ? And I, who held 

Him on my knee; feeling each heart-beat by 

Mine ovvn, did watch his sweet breath leaping back; 

Mine own eyes mirrored in his bit of Heaven! 

Theophiius, why didst make Lucas free ? 



Theophilus 

Antigone, it was of Lucas that 
I wished to speak. 

Dost mind thee of that day 
Long gone; (when thou thyself wast but a child) 
That coming back from Syria, with silks 
Most rare and purple dyes, I tarried for 
A day in Antioch ? — and drav^ing near 
A well — that I might rest and give unto 
My camels drink; I saw a slender lad 
Not taller than Cleanthes now. His hair 
Was dark and hung in curls about his neck. 
So much alone I saw, and his bronze limbs 
Burned to a richer hue by Syrian suns. 
And as I mused, with half shut eyes, dreaming 
Of Greece and thee, I saw unmindful of 
Me, that his right hand traced upon a stone 
Some imagery. 



Antigone 

Ay, often have I seen 
Him thus, on some such occupation bent! 



Theophilus 

Calling unto the lad (who knelt with such 
Deep fixity of gaze) to know of what 
He did perchance: slowly, with thought, he raised 
His eyes, and Mighty Zeus! — the sun itself 



9 



\\ as hid when I IhIicIcI his lace, so hke 

Cireat Phoebus did he seem; wearin}; upun 

His pure while brow, that look oftruth and strength 

Which only Phidias' hand could pivc! — mcihou'^ht 

Too, that his great eyes had a wondrous trick 

or looking;; further than the ;i;<jds could sec: 

— But — simply answered rhoM;:;h the Ind; in sweet 

And gentle accents in his Hebrew ton-rue: 

I trace upon this stone, the likeness of 
Thy camels. Is aught wrong in that r 

The law 
Says: 

' Thou shalt not make unto thee any 
Likeness,'" 

And I made answer unto him: 
" Dear lad, I see no v/ronp; but would'st thou lilce 
To go to fair Aihcna in the land 
Of Greece ? — I have a garden tliere, rich, with 
Sweet flow'rs and shrubs of every hue — Myrtle?, 
Oleanders, and great citron-trees; there thou 
Canst draw and paint, and listen to the son^ 
The waves sang to Aegeus long ago! 
By all the mighty gods! I'll make thee too 
A man of Physics: for thou hast upon 
That brow so strong, more than the simj^lc arts 
Of drawing lines, or wielding brush! 

\\ hat is 
Thy name ? 

Lucanus, sayst thou ? 

1 will 
Call thee Lucas, or perchance Luke; and thou 
Shalt be to me more than my other slaves!" 



10 



Antigone 

Methinks we never thought of him as slave; 
Such was our love for him, and his for us. 
Oft have I seen him with Cleanthes — 

(Throwing herself on the bier in o 

frenzy of grief) Oh 

Theophilus, our lad, our precious lad! 

{Controlling herself) 
But go thou on, my tears do break thy tale — 



Theophilus 

{Drawing her away) 

So taking his small hand we found, within 
The field nearby, his Hebrew mother — On 
Her lap a babe, and others standing 'round 
With that sad look of patience which one sees 
Upon the faces of the young who want. 
Explaining her my mission, with great tears 
And sobs, she placed the hand of Lucas in 
Mine own. 

"Take him — good master and entreat 
Him well! He is my first born, and my joy. 
My pride; but burning suns have crisped the fields 
Of wheat; and we are like to perishing! 
Perchance the pittance that he leaves, will keep 
Alive the younger little mouths; and he 
Will have his fill where all is plenteous 
The great Jehovah be with thee and him ! " 
— The rest thou knowest, my Antigone. 



11 



Antigone 

Ay, wot I well the day thou brought'st him home; 

— The httle Jewish lad with Greek f;od face! 

A little wistful too, methought he looked 

When I did question him of Antioch; 

And of his mother and his Hebrew gods. 

" Gods! sayest thou ? We have no gods, save 

one; 
The great Jehovah!" 

Then, with voice, as rich 
And full as Orpheus' stringed instrument; 
He did relate a curious tale — learned at 
His mother's knee — of some small babe, this God 
Had sent to save the world; — as if a babe 
Could war against our Mighty Zeus! — and I 
Did laugh, and pinch him on the ear. " What tale 
Is this, Lucanus ? Thou wilt soon be grown, 
With man's nobility and strength: Believest 
Thou this ? — And more v»ith his great eyes than with 
His voice, he said: 

" Yea Mistress: — I believe!" 



Theophilus 

Years have gone by, and this dear lad has grown 
To be a man, with flower more mature 
Than e'en the bud gave hope; pre-eminent 
In Physics, as in Arts; — yet through the years 
Accustomed to strange thoughts and wondrous 



12 



Dost mind thee of that night our little babe, 
Our own Cleanthes lay in that deep sleep, 
When Lucas came and tore him from the jaws 
Of death, to give him rosy, safe and warm 
Into thy tender arms ? — Worn with the weight 
Of anguish I had felt, I sought relief 
Within the cool crisp night; and wandering through 
The grove of myrtles, — blooming white beneath 
The clear, sweet stars; I came upon him. Worn 
He looked, and well nigh spent; and yet, upon 
His brow a look of radiance. Stepping near 
That I might speak such words of thanks as my 
Poor lips could frame; — I heard him sobbing forth 
A name, so vibrant in the silver air 
That all the myrtle-trees, methought, took up 
The ecstacy of sound; and little waves 
Upon the beach echoed the name — " Christus!" 
" Lucas!" I said — and as he heard the call, 
His tear dimmed eyes met mine; and we, two men, 
Strong in men's strength, were not ashamed to weep. 
" Ask what thou wilt," I said " and I will give 
It thee: — For thou hast saved Cleanthes' life 
My precious babe — my only born; and thou 
Thyself, hast been to me not as a slave 
But as another child!" 

And with great tears: 
" Theophilus, once thou didst give me life. 
And more besides, for thou didst nobly add 
With thine own wisdom, wisdom's crown to mine; 
And now I ask of thee, the gift of mine 
Own life, to give again! 

— The call has come 
And I must needs obey it. — For through long 



la 



And weary years, methinks I've heard a voice; 

— As soft and low as mine own Hebrew mother's; 

Saying in sweet and tender tones: — Lucas! 

My own sheep hear my voice and follow me' 
— Master, I love thee none the less, nor fair 
Antigone: but give me freedom! Let 
Me answer the long call; for I must go 
E'en though it lead me in the way the dear 
Christ went before! — Perchance, some day, thou too 
Wilt hear the call." 

And I did answer him: 
" Not L Lucanus, but go thou, dear lad; 
Seek you your Christ; the gods will do for me, 
And my Antigone, and our Cleanthes. 
One rippling laugh of his is more to me 
Than all the gods!" 



Antigone 

One rippling laugh! His voice 
Was like the sound of nightingales within 
The Ilex-groves; or love-song of the bees 
Unto the Spring-Anemones! — Never 
Again to hear that voice! 



Theophilus 

Antigone 
Lean closer love; put thy small hand in mine 
And thy dear heart upon my heart. Let thy 
Soul leap as mine to thoughts — new. vivid as 
The lightning's flash — 



14 



Our Cleanthes will live 
A^ain! The Jewish hahy God has won; 
— -And with his hand and stretched-out arm has 

fought 
The fight, and conquered death: Great Pan is 

dead! 
There is no other God save one; — the Great 
fchovah and His Son! 

This morning as 
I sat beside the silent bier of our 
Beloved one; Thyrsis, with trembling hands, 
Brought to me words of life. 

— Lucanus sent 
A many months agone, a treatise writ 
From Macedonia. (He travels with 
Gne Paulus — who 'tis said was called to preach 
The Word in Philippi.) 

Shall we not read 
The treatise by the bier of our beloved 
Cleanthes? — It brings life Antigone! 



Antigone 

Read on beloved; — though I see naught but death! 

{Theophtlus produces a scroll of parchment, 
written in close characters of Greek, Together they 
approach the bier. With one arm around Antigone, 
and the other holding the document, he reads.) 

' "For as much as many have taken in hand to 
set forth in order a declaration of those things 



15 



which are most surely believed amonj* us, even as 
they delivered them unto us, which from the be- 
ginning; were eye-witnesses, and ministers of the 
word, it seemed good to me also, having had perfect 
understanding of all things from the very first, to 
write unto thee in order, most excellent Theophilus, 
that thou mightest know the certainty of those 
thines wherein thou has been instructed. 



Antigone 

The certainty of those things! Of what things 
Beloved ? 



Theophilus 

Spoke we not a moment gone 
Of Lucas, and the great God, Christ ? 



Antigone 

I see 
As through a mist, Theophilus! Read on — 

Theophilus 

(ReaJing) 
* * * " And in the sixth month, the angel 
Gabriel was sent from God into a citv of Galilee 



16 



named Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man 
whose name was Joseph, of the House of David ; 
and the virgin's name was Mary " ""^^ * * 

{Hand tn hand, with quickened breath they sit as 
Theophilus reads through the treatise. The room 
becomes darkened as the last rays of the "flickering 
twilight fall upon the face of Cleanthcs. Antigone 
rises, and with trembling hands, lights the small 
lamps, that throw a pale glow upon the parchment . 
Seating herself again; — she speaks:) 

Theophilus, read once again the tale 

Of that dead lad in Nain, Christ brought to life. 

— I almost see the weeping mother now; 

And them that stood beside to comfort her! 

Small comfort could they give to her, who had 

Lost all; as we have O Theophilus! 

— And yet; Luke says there was One who stood by 

Full of compassion who could give nev/ life: 

— Read of that One, beloved, — of that Christ — ! 



Theophilus 

(Reading.) 

* * * " And when the Lord sav/ her, he had 
compassion on her and said unto her, Weep not 
* * * And he said Young man I say unto thee 
Arise. And he that was dead sat up, and began to 



17 



Antigone 

l^uke speaks of others too raised tioin the dead! 
I'hinlc what it meant to Jairus to once inorc 
Fold close against his heart that loving form; 
—The little maid who crept into his life. 
To make the ruler of the Synagogue 
More human; understanding more the needs 
Of lesser men and women. 

— Rulers to 
Rule well, need the warm clasp of baby arms. 
And plastic touch of childish hands, to mould 
The sterner metal of their natures to 
\ pitying love for all humanity — ! 
fheophilus, how could they crucify 
Ihat Christ; — The God who raised their dead! 



Theophii.us 

'Twas not 
Those ones whose dead had telt Christ's smile! 

Luke speaks 
Of cnvv, malice, and of one false friend 
Named Judas — Fickle multitudes who first 
Proclaim Him King; and then condemn: 
Of Pilate much too weak to stand between 
This (lod and death. — Yet in the end; death could 
Not conquer Him who rose again! Dost note 
The end of this most rare, strange narrative? 



18 



" And He led them out as far as Bethany, and 
He lifted up his hands, and blessed them. And it 
came to pass, while He blessed them, He was 
parted from them, and carried up into Heaven." 



Antigone 

(Speaking to herself.) 

"That thou mightest know the certainty!" 

(To Theophilus.) 

Theophilus, I know it now; as thou 

May'st never know! I know the certainty; 

As women know the certainty of their 

Own babe beneath their heart; — who've never seen 

Its tiny face, nor felt its breath of life 

Upon their cheek; and yet they know, ay and 

Love too, that little throbbing, pulsing form. 

Folded so safe and warm within their care. 

Theophilus, I sometimes pity men 

Who only know the certainty of death; 

— They never know the certainty of life! 

That joy God gives unto us mothers; who 

Need such joy to sweeten the wild anguish; 

And make all else of naught avail, but that 
We have brought forth a child to nestle in 
Our waiting arms, and make the earth to which 
He's come, a fairer place in which to live. 

{Rising hurriedly.) 
19 



Haste! haste! Thcophilus — \vc needs must haste! 
Call thou the lad 'l"h)rsis! 

(Theop/uliis goes out nnJ returns with Tliyrsis.) 
Thvrsis 



My mistress ? 



Thou callest me 



(| Antigone 
^ Ay, Thyrsis. 

a 

Theophilus 



\\ hat wilt thou love ? 



Antigone 

We have much work to do afore the mom! 

— No funeral pyre shall claim our precious hoy; 

And roh us of his merry face; lick his 

Fair curls, which I have polished like to gold 

Around mv Hnger; rend his tender form 

And turn to smoke and ashes those hlue orhs 

Which shone and sparkled like the stars at night! 

Mind ye of that strange Altar on Mars hill; 

— Built vears agone unto the Unknown God ? 



20 



Oft have I heard the tale retold, of this 

New God who healed the plague when all the gods 

Of Greece had failed. — This God who cared enough 

For men, to help the sick, and banish death; 

To listen to the wail of Mothers robbed 

Of their first-born: — I see it clear! This God 

It was who sent His Son into the world 

To live the life, and die the death, that we 

Who know what death does mean, may see the sign 

Of His own wondrous love! 



Our precious lad ? 



Theophilus 

— There thou wouldst take 

Antigone 



Ay, love; and lay him like 
The dear Lord Christ! His tender form will we 
Anoint with spices rare and ointments sweet; 
And 'round his dear fair face the finest of 
White linen bind. 

Perchance in seeing this 
The Great God, — thinking of His risen Son, — 
Will tear him from his new made grave, and say 
To our own little lad, as once He said 
To him of Nain: 

" Young man I say to thee arise." 
And then when we have left him there, beneath 
The shadow of the altar steps — we'll on 



21 



— On — to tliat Bethany! For where He rose; 
A voice within mc tells He'll come again! 



Theophilus 

Antigone, thou'rt ri<i:ht; We'll leave all else 
Behind. — Our gardens and our flowers fair; 
And the sweet palace by th' ;\cgean Sea! 
No more for us the nightingales will sing: 
Nor myrtle trees put forth their fragrance rich; 
For to us too the call has come! and hand 
In hand, with but our love for each; we'll turn 
Our steps towards Bethany! 



Antigone 

Ay, on to Bethany! 



22 



PART II 

NIGHT 

Scene I. {A narroiu street. Nearby are seen the 
city lualls, terminating in a great triumphal 
Colonnade, — in the centre of zuhich are the 
massive city gates.) 

A Watchman bearing torch 
Ho! who appioacheth! 

Second Watchman also with torch 

Who but such an one 
As thou! Think'st any else walk Athen's streets 
When all make merry on th' Acropolis ? 
Pah ! To what uses are v/e put to watch 
The stones; — the}^ will not steal, nor burn, nor play 
The wanton! 

First Watchman 

Ho! but yonder one comes with 
A festive air— as if with goodly victuals 
He had kept company; or his lips wet 
With sparkling grapes of jovial Bacchus! 



23 



Enter Citizen 

Ho 
There! ho there! thinkest thou to pass us so? 

Citizen, coming back 

What would'st thou watchman ? 

Both together 

News, fellow! 

First Watchman 

Thlnk'st thou 
We be as dead as these fire-brands we hold ? 

Citizen 
Ye do have surly tongues yc rogues! 

Second Watchman 

Why then. 
If surly, we'll soon mend them, if thou wilt 
But use thine own for gossiping. 



24 



Citizen 

What would 

Ye know ? 

First Watchman 

Of the feast unto Athene; — 
Wast thou not there from morn until but now ? 

Citizen 

Ay, was I there, since Helios touched with 
Roseate glow the blue Aegean waves; 
Changing each azure sea-flower blossom 
Into a mass of rosy laurel bloom! 
What shall I tell, and v/here shall I begin ? 

Second Watchman 
At the beginning, — where else thinkest thou ? 

First Watchman 

Nay, waste not time upon the anthems sung; 
Anthems are anthems throughout all the v/orld. 
— Give me but action; and leave all the m.usic 
Unto the fools and women-folk! 

Begin 
Thou at the v/restling games; — by all the gods, — 
I'll wager thee, Lysias could pinion to 
The ground any in all Athens! 

25 



Put up 



Slcond Watchman 

Thy wager! 

First Watchman 
1 wo staters on Lvsias! 



Second Watchman 

Pah! give a wager something worth — a scorn 

Upon two staters! — I will wager five 

On Pentheus — hast seen him r Strong and haid 

As any lion's whelp; with muscles firm 

As coils of polished steel. 



First Watchman 

Ha! what is steel 
When one encounters Hercules ? I tell 
Thee, man, he had no showing! 



Second Watchman 

And I sa\' 
Ilr h;,d! 



20 



First Watchman 

(Dratus his sword.) 
And I say he had not — villain! 
Take that! 

Second Watchman 

(Drawing his sword.) — 
And thou that! 
(They both lean their torches against the wall and 
start fighting.) 

Citizen 

Peace men! — how can I 
Tell ye of the most mighty games; when ye 
Do meet each other in embroilment ? 



First Watchman 

I 

Care naught for the games; — I say Lysias won! 

Second Watchman 

And I say Pentheus, thou knave! ho help! 

Help here! ho help! — Thou takest my life's blood! 

(They pass on fighting, Citizen trying to separate 
them.) 



27 



(Enter Thcophilus and Antigone.) 



Antigone 

Was not the place most wondrous fair, mine own 
Theophilus ? Methou2;ht the earth seemed warmer 
tor its precious burden; — throhbinp; with joy 
To hold his tender form; and little buds 
Did burst in snowy bloom to match their whiteness 
With his own! 



Theophilus 

Ay, mine own Antigone; 
Earth never seemed so fair, so grand in her 
Maternity; as when she stretched her all 
Embracing arms, to take from thine our own 
Beloved one! 

— Dear love, to-night I had 
A vision strange and wondrous sweet: 

From on 
The sunmiit of that star-crowned hill, as far 
As eye could see or thought could reach; I saw 
I he temples of our pagan gods, — with their 
Rich balustrades and colonnades, blooming 
So white beneath the rising moon, — droop as 
A flow'r that has fulfilled its life; or as 
A rose from whence the perfume's gone, before 
The budding of this new white bloom — this Christ, 
Who builds His temples in our hearts; and draws 
From them the sweetest incense of our praise! 



28 



And from the sod, above our little lad, 
I seemed to see the lilies growing tall; 
— Great seeds of our own faith, Antigone, 
Planted by us, and spreading o'er all Greece! 



Antigone 
Ay, love, Athens' first Christian grave! 



Theophilus 

But soft, 
— Some one approaches. 

Stand thou here, while I 
Go yonder by the Eastern Gate. — Perchance 
'Tis but some reveller from the games: Fain would 
I shield thy wounded heart from rough conflict! 

(He goes and looks, — then returns.) 

Ay, as I said; only 'tis more than one — 
— The night is further spent than e'en I thought; 
And with the passing of the midnight hour 
Comes back the half of Athens from the Feast; 
Making our sorrow, and our new found faith, 
A mockery! 

Come here, dear love, we'll hide 
Us in the shadows of the colonnade. 
— I know thou mother sheep, e'en though thou hast 
Found peace, art bleating for the little lamb. 



29 



{They stand aside while from the distance is 
heard rnustc, which gradually grows louder. The 
torch bearers approach, carrying long burning 
brands, followed by Priests chanting; then the women 
bearing baskets in which are seen the implements 
which were used at the sacrifice during the morning. 
Then flower girls and dancers. The successful 
competitor m the musical contest, crowned with a 
golden crown; followed by the olive-wreathed /Athlete, 
carrying a large Greek urn filled with the sacred oil. 
Afore torches, charioteers, etc., a medley of light, color 
and music.) 

Chorus 

Hail! O ye children of Athens; our joy in the day 

is complete; 
Royal in garments of splendor, with gold and with 

jewels replete, 
Stands she, Athene, the blessed, with gifts of our 

love at her feet. 

Robed in a Peplos of saffron; of cobwebs and lillies 

its weave, 
Broidered in pearls, the old legends of heroes and 

gods on her sleeve. 
Goddess of strength and of wisdom; our incense 

and praise doth receive. 

Daughter of Zeus, the Supreme One; Sovereign in 

power and might. 
Wielder of spear to the war song. — In peace the 

great donor of light. 
Aegis and spear are beside her, with olive and 

myrtle bedight. 

30 



Priests Chanting 

Slain are the sheep and the oxen; poured over the 

Altar is wine; 
liurning are myrrh and sweet aloes, and hundreds 

of torches outshine 
Luna's great orb of the midnight. All hail to the 

Goddess divine! 



A Bystander 

Who wears the wreath of the victor ? Who carries 
the urn with the oil ? 



Chorus 

Lysias, bom but to triumph, with sinews and 

muscles that coil 
Firm 'round the form of a rival; his nerve and his 

strength to despoil! 

A Bystander 

Who read the lays of our Homer ? Who danced to 

the lute and the lyre r 
Who rode the fierce steed of Sparta ? Who sang, 

the gold crown to acquire ? 



31 



Chorus 

Cadmus and Cleon the crowned ones; Behold ye 
the victors' attire! 

Cadmus has won tor his Sparta, the cloak of a 
warrior bold; 

On his broad back hangs the Palliuin; its sumpt- 
uous lengths do enfold 

All his great form in its beauty; with tassels and 
trimmings of gold. 

Cleon, the sweetest of singers with voice like to 

Orpheus* own, 
Burnished with silvery laughter, and deepened by 

life's undertone. 
Song bird of Athens, we hail thee, and place on th)- 

brow the great crown! 



Song of the Dancers 

We've danced to the sound of the cymbals clash; 
We've swayed to the tones of the harps of gold; 
With pulses fierce beating and eyes that flash, 
With passion grown dim as a tale long told. 
O joy for the throbbings of mad desire! 
O sad is the rhythm of hearts grown old! 

Weavers of the Peplos 

Tender, gentle maidens we; 
Spotless in our purity. 



82 



Of a ray of pale moon beam, 

And a lily's breath, did seam 

Into vesture, to adorn 

Her we've crowned this joyous morn! 



First Philosopher 

What mummery is this the people shout ? 
— Think you a carven stone with hair of gold, 
And eyes of polished gems, could harken to 
The tumult of their cheers and songs of praise ? 



Second Philosopher 

Sh — sh — speak but softly; — Greece is Greece this 

day 
As 'twas when Socrates the hemlock drank 
Four hundred years agone. It brooks not of 
A thought outspoke — but clings to beauteous form 
And color of the fruit, — the more the seed 
Is rotten at the core! 



First Philosopher 

Of them do I 
Fear naught, life is but life to me, with skies 
Of blue, and twinkling stars and golden wine, — 
And death! And after death — who knows! — who 
knows ? 



33 



Good friends, is it of death ye speak; or does 
My mind but echo words engraven on 
My beating heart ? — Or as, when we have Iain 
Us down to rest, and sleep has closed our care — 
Worn eyes; each thought, wliich seemed so sweet 

beneath 
I he shining sun, becomes distort, and like 
An hydra-headed monster, sears and burns 
Us with its fierv breath. 



Second Philosopher 

What ails thee man ? 

Lysander 

Hast thou not heard how grief has come, to lay 

Its clammy hand upon Theophilus ? 

Sit at his hearth, and stare forever out 

His young wife's eyes. — Be with their waking 

thoughts 
And their good night ? 

Second Philosopher 

Ay, I have heard his son 
Was dead; but all must die — wherefore not now? 



34 



Voice in the Crowd 



Who talks of death, to-night of all nights ? — Pah! 
Thy very garments reek of funeral pyres; 
And thy long face doth give but insult to 
Our merry-making — Tra la! old long face! 



First Philosopher 

Lysander, come with us — ^we are not gay 
— But may perchance enliven thy sad heart! 



Lysander 

Nay, go ye on! — when all this surging crowd 
Have passed, I'll take my heart-ache to my friend's 
Sore heart; and share with him his grief, e'en as 
I have his joy. 

{They all move on. As the last dancer disap- 
pears in the distance, far off sounds of the chorus are 
heard.) 

Hail — O — ye — children — of — 



Lysander 

{Speaking to himself). 

At last, they're gone! — Theophilus, I would 
I could thy sorrow take: Ye gods! — To think 

35 



With all our love, when grief comes, we only 
Can stand, and see it waste, and sear, and burn; 
And we, who'd gladly give our lives, can with 
Our faltering speech but show the fragments of 
Our pity. 

(Theophilus and Antigone approach.) 



Theophilus 
Lysander! Thou! 



Lysander 

Ay, Theophilus, J 

I have but heard thy sorrow and Antigone's, 
And with my hastening steps to thee, do seek 
The threshold of thy grief; to hold unto 
My heart thy pain, e'en as before I've held 
The little lad. 



Theophilus 

Good friend, I thank thee from 
My heart, but now 'tis not for me to bid 
Thee enter there; — the door is closed, and in 
That hour of travail known to Antigone 
And me, was born a twin unto our pain. 
— It wears the form of our loved child, but has 
The lineaments of One, Lucanus spoke 



36 



Of in his dreams. We call this new-sent babe, 
Born of our anguish and despair, — " God's faith "- 
Some day we'll share that with thee too, as we 
Have shared Cleanthes love: — only not now; 
This babe is small and young, and we must needs 
Tend it. 

We go to-night to Bethany! 



Lysander 
Theophilus, has grief made thee distraught ? 

Theophilus 

Nay, friend, — methinks 'tis but now I am sane. 
Dost mind thee of my freedman, Luke ? 

Lysander 

Ay, as 
Of one to dream dreams and see visions — What 

Of him ? {Turning to Antigone) 

Antigone, what means he, has 
My friend gone mad ? 

Antigone 

If mad, we both are; and 
Such madness I would wish for thee. — Such joy 

37 



In pain! I'd gladly see thee stoop to drink 

Life's chalice to the utmost brim; if in 

Its dregs thou too could'st find the honey mixed 

Therewith! Lucanus was our slave, but now 

'Tis he who's made us debtors unto him — 

— If in his visions he could pierce beyond 

The veil into the great white light; 

— So in his dreams, he has shown us a star 

Whose beams can light the world; and sing a new 

Song to our hearts. 

Lysander 

And is there aught beyond ? 



Ay. life! 



Antigone 



Lysander 



I understand ye not, and yet, 
I see a pow'r that worketh in ye which 
I know not of. 

— Ye speak of leaving Athens! 
That do I understand. — Must this new faith 
Make us as strangers ? 



Theophilus 

Nay, friend — we will write 
— Perchance will send Lucanus, or this Paul 
He travels with; whose fame indeed has reached 

38 



To wondrous lengths, when we do hear his name 
From Antioch, as in a trail of light. 
To Philippi. — I hear 'tis even said 
He'll visit Athens ere the next Olympiad. 



Lysander 

Perchance; all some time visit Athens. — But 
Of Luke ? 



Theophilus 

I'll leave his missive in thy hands. 
— May it but give to thee, the hope — the faith 
— The Christ — e'en as it gave to us. Then w^ill 
We be as brothers. Now as friends — farewell! 



Lysander 

Farewell, dear friends! The gods be with ye! If 

mad, 
I too would share thy madness: if to me 
Could come such faith as I now do look on! 



3^ 



ONE HOUR LATER 

Scene 2. {Shipboard — with view of harbor. On 
the left tn the distance, are seen the lights upon 
the Acropolis. On the right is the Sacred 
Island of Elis, from whence can be seen the 
Statue of Victory y and the Golden Shield hanging 
beneath it upon the Temple of /jCus, standing 
out bright and clear in the moon-light.) 

{Enter Theophilus assisting Antigone.) 



Theophilus 

Courage, dear love! — one step the more, and we 
Have cut our old life as Atropos doth 
Her thread. Henceforth we are as far removed 
As if we'd even lain us down to die; 

And wakened in that new and perfect life 
Lucanus told us of beyond the grave. 



Antigone 

I need not courage, love, for I am strong. 

— Stronger than thou, Theophilus! So oft 

I've felt our little babe upon my heart 

That I can feel him now; only he's grown 

To be a lad, and I can see his face, 

And hear his merry laugh, and feel his lips 

On mine, and kiss his precious curls like gold! 

— We've lain him 'neath the stars upon Mars Hill; 



40 



But in my mother's heart, I fold him still, 

Wait and content me, 'till this new-found Christ 

Shall give him to mine empty arms again. — 



Theophilus 

Antigone, could'st bear such joy ? Would not 
Thy wounded heart burst of its own rapture, 
And all the precious wine drops spill from out 
The overflowing chalice of thy love ? 



Antigone 

Nay, God would not allow it so! Somehow 
Methinks the Christ who gave me back my dead 
Could still my pulses beating ere they leaped 
Beyond their bounds. — Dost think that Mother, in 
The far off Nain, did fall before her gift 
Of wondrous love; and in her agony 
Of joy, could not unto her bosom hold 
Her son ? You know not mothers yet, beloved! 
Theophilus, this much I know; all hearts 
Of mothers beat the same, and what He said 
To her. He'll say to me, somehow — somewhere 
— And we can wait, knowing this well, that if 
Our little lad comes not to us again, 
Then we can go to him — beyond the stars! 
Theophilus, hearest thou aught besides 
The wind upon the sea ? It hath the sound 
Of far-off weeping, — None must weep to-night 
— Our new birthnight! Do any sail with us ? 



41 



Thlophilus 

Na)', love, none but rhe Captain and his mates; 
We've taken sail upon a merchant ship 
For Joppa bound. — We carry thither stores 
Of honey, citrons, limes and luscious figs; 
Besides, have we the little barley cakes 
None know so well the mixing of, as we 
Of Athens. 

Antigone 

Hark! I hear it still — it is 
A voice. — A human cry! 

(Thyrsis rushes out from where he ts hidden and 
throws himself on his knees.) 



Theophilus 

Thyrsis! Thou lad .' 

Thyrsis 
My master — mistress! 

Theophilus 

Lad, how cam'st thou here ? 



42 



Thyrsis 

Master, forgive, — I could not stay behind; 

— The God who called to thee must need me too! 

I know I am a simple lad — thy slave; 

But will He not look down upon a slave ? 

This morn, when thou didst send me from thy side, 

For grief I threw me by the colonnade, 

And heard thee read Luke's missive; and I thought 

That Simeon in the Temple, as he held 

The little God-sent Babe within his arms, 

Meant me, as well as thee, when he did speak 

Those words of prophesy to all the world. 



Theophilus 

Thyrsis, thou'rt right; the light was meant for thee 

E'en as for us! 'Tis not for me to bid 

Thee stay. — Thou could'st not now e'en though 

thou would'st. 
Look lad, how far we've left the shore behind! 



{Thyrsis goes to the side of the vessel and gazes 
in wonderment. Theophilus turns to Antigone.) 

See, love, the lights grow dim upon the Parthenon; 
And we approach the sacred Isle of Zeus : 
Look how the moon doth like a white dove's wing 
Bespeak of peace upon the sleeping Elisl 
Soon, with the rising sun, will wake to life 
Once more the nodding grain. — The sheep will 
stretch 

43 



Their limbs and seek to find green pastures and 

The coohng streams — The lambs will gambol on, 

And frisking back, will press their noses cool 

Against the warm full udders waiting them. 

Then will there cease the lusty song, the frog 

In ecstacy doth sing unto his mate; 

To sound once more the droning of the bee, 

As from the almond tree she flits about 

And in her tiny pouch the seed of life 

Doth take, with love, unto the budding flow'r. 

— The grapes will purple on the hanging vines: 

And limes, in yellow splendor, like to balls 

Of gold, will pendant be from laden trees; 

— Yet will we not be there, nor see again! 



Antigone 

Nay, but we know a peace they know not of 
Upon that Isle, known as the land of Peace! 
See how, dear love, the moon already wanes. 
And weary doth appear of keeping watch; 
Her lustrous mantle folds she down and sinks 
To sleep beneath the ever sleepless waves. 
How shine the stars in all their glory bright! 
Didst ever see such wondrous sheen before ^ 



Theophilus 

'Tis not the stars, Antigone, but thine 
Own hope! 

Dost mind thee of that day when first 



I held thee in mine arms as I do now, 

My fluttering bird ? — Thou wast so young, so frail 

So fair, and I so like a Titan in 

My strength: — I kissed thee on thy hands, thy brow 

And on thy rosy lips so close to mine. 

— I pressed thy lids down o'er thy violet eyes 

Until thy golden head sank with its weight 

Of love upon my breast; and we who'd held 

Life's crown, wore it with beating hearts. Then 

thou 
Didst raise thine eyes until their depths met mine, 
Then higher still, until they reached unto 
The arching skies: 

"How blue the heavens seem 
Theophilus!" 

Love, I did laugh for joy. 
And hold thy hands, as little rose-buds crushed 
Within mine own! 

Life is but ever like 
An Hyacinthus stone; and changes tint 
With every fickle mood the day doth wear; 
— When all is bright, so tender blue it shines, 
And yet to ashy gray becomes, when clouds 
Are overcast, and rain-drops fall. But when 
Love comes! — it paints upon the sky, the pure 
And changeless sapphire hue, in token of 
Its constancy. 

The sky is always blue 
For Love; — as Hope doth make the stars to shine! 

Antigone 

The which is greater then, beloved, Love 
Or Hope? 

45 



Theophilus 

Methinks the twain could scarcely live 
Apart; and yet they need a third to make 
The crown complete. 

Antigone 

God's Faith ? 

Theophilus 

Ay love, God's Faith. 

{To Thyrsis.) 

Didst bring thy harp lad } Sing to us a song 
Attune to our own hearts, and to the stars. 
— Oft have I heard thee, when thou knew'st it not, 
Speak all thy soul unto the answering strings. 

Thyrsis 

Master, my songs are simple things: — I tune 
The music to the words, as one by one, 
Thev fall as beads from off a loosened thread. 

{He strikes the harp and sings.) 

O Gracious Star 

That on that sleeping town did shine; 

And from afar 

Lead wise men to the Babe divine, 

O star of Faith, enlight my life with sparks of thine! 

Star of the Morn 

46 



That sends its beams adown the years, 
And doth adorn 

With splendor this dark world of fears 
O star of Hope, pierce with thy light this vale of 
tears! 

Star of the Eve 

That glows upon the passing day; 

And doth relieve 

The ebon night by thy first ray, 

O star of Love, be to my night a torch alway! 

Stars of the Night, 

Into a wreath I'll bind ye three; 

Great sheaves of light 

Tied with God's love and truth for me, 

O stars of Night, crown me with your own purity! 

{Thyrsis drops the harp, and stands gazing into 
the sea. Over the mountains the sun rises in all the 
beauty that only the South-land knows.) 



Theophilus 

Behold the morn! How like unto a wheel 
Of fire the sun doth shape himself in all 
His glory; — throwing out his rays like spokes 
Of flame upon Hymettus! Sending on 
Before, no heralds in the shape of clouds 
Nor rosy tinted sky; but like a king 
Beloved by all, doth ride in majesty 



47 



Alone. He knows the joyous welcome of 

The South; he knows the throbbing earth will lifr 

Her moist lips to his passion kiss. — See how 

Already lights the mountain top, and as 

A bride doth blush within his warm embrace, 

— So doth the new day rise for us, beloved! 

Antigone 

Farewell Hymettus— Mountain loved of Greece! 
The blue Aegean sweeps thine emerald shores 
And thou wilt always hear her lapping waves. 
She casts her little pebbles on thy beach; 
— Her children, born of the great rocks, and her 
Own strength. Her sea-flow'rs wed thy springing 

buds 
And bring to life the sweet anemones. 
— But us she washes from thy sight, and on 
Her mighty bosom bears us hence. — Farewell. 

Thyrsis 

And yet God's sun which warms thee with his rays. 

Will be a light to us, and lead us on; 

— Guide us like children to that holy land 

— Even to Bethany! 

Antigone 

To Christ! 

Theophilus 

To God! 
48 



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